Mistletoe and Brandy
by flaminglake
Summary: Tis the season to be jolly, and Crowley cannot understand why Halt isn't enjoying the festive activities.


**Mistletoe and Brandy**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Ranger's Apprentice.**

**My Christmas fic of 2012. (It was supposed to be more in Crowley's point of view, but Halt was being difficult again)**

"Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fa la la la la la la la la."

Halt woke instantly, though he did not let any sign of his awareness show. This discretion was a habit of his, born from years of waking in potential danger situations. Five years, to be exact, almost six. Had it really been so long already? The past year, he'd been working to rebuild the ranger corps with an annoying pest, who Halt _supposed_ could be considered a good friend now. Before that, had been trained by Pritchard in Clonmel. Another good friend there, Halt reflected, thinking fondly of his old mentor. He hadn't been able to locate the ex-ranger since he'd come to Araluen.

"Tis the season to be jolly, fa la la la la la la la la."

Halt decided there was no threat to his wellbeing, if the mentioned annoying pest who was supposed to be on watch thought the time was right to start bellowing out christmas carols for all of Araluen to hear. He stretched, catlike, and shrugged off his blankets.

"Don we now our gay apparel, troll the ancient christmas carol."

Halt crawled out of the low tent. They were camped in a clearing, the ground covered in snow. A coffee pot was boiling, and Crowley was frying some potatoes they had found, and baking bread over hot embers that he'd scraped from the fire.

"Fa la la la la la la la la," Crowley sang. If that tuneless screeching could be called singing.

"Do you have to make that yowling noise?" Halt groaned. He poured himself a mug of coffee, and tried to emmerse his tastebuds in the hot brew, rather than focus on the racket his ears were picking up.

Crowley ginned at him and continued. "See the blazing yule," he trilled, then paused. His eyes turned upwards in thought as he muttered, "something, something, something." He shrugged to himself, then bellowed out, "FA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA!"

"SHUT UP!" Halt roared at the same time. "Shut up, or I will make you eat your quiver, then all of your arrows one by one."

Crowley shut up. He looked a little put out, and blinked at his friend, astounded. "Gee, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

Halt let out an impatient sigh. "I woke up on the normal person side of the bed. You, on the other hand, have woken up resembling a rabid squirrel."

"Squirrels are cute," Crowley said. "They can climb trees and pelt people with nuts, at least I would, if I was a squirrel. It'd be fun, being a squirrel, I think."

"That's fascinating," Halt said, each word dripping with venemous sarcasm.

"Oh yeah," Crowley said, as another thought occurred to him. "We're going to Redmont today."

"No we're not," Halt argued. "We're on our way to Denniston."

"Oh, come on, Halt," Crowley waved off the protest. "We can be in Redmont before tommorrow. We can stay there three or four days, just over Christmas. I have family there and I'd love to spend the most joyful season with them. The we'll continue to Denniston."

The sandy haired ranger ignored the fact that his friend had not yet agreed, and continued with his plan. "We'll have to take our cloaks off though. Rangers aren't welcome in the kingdom these days, thanks to those blithering drunks that have given us such a bad name." He spoke with a feirce passion, his eyes alight with determination. "We'll get the corps back to how it was before too long, I have faith in that," Crowley added. They had already found thirty seven capable and 'real' rangers, out of the fifty they needed.

"The corps'll recover quicker if we don't break for christmas," Halt pointed out.

"But it's christmas!" Crowley whined, his brief flash of seriousness disappearing to give way to his usual childishness and, as Halt thought, annoying pest-ness. "It's a time for family! They'll be so upset if I don't come. Besides, I'm the one who decorates the tree and gets everything ready. I bring the christmas spirit. I can't have a christmas away from my mum and dad."

"You're such a child sometimes," Halt growled, irritated.

"You're such a grinch!" Crowley retorted. "I want to spend christmas with my family."

Halt stared down at the coffee in his hands, swirling the cup and watching the liquid slosh.

"Fine," he caved. "We'll go to Redmont."

…...

Redmont was ablaze this time of year. Holly and Ivy lined the roofs of buildings. Coloured lanterns, ribbons and tinsel lit up the town, colouring it red, green and gold against the falling snow. Crowley cast an adoring gaze around. It was good to be home.

On the streets, a choir of young chilren warbled out silent night. Crowley tossed them a few coins, and clapped a hearty applause. Halt grumbled that he'd pay them to stop. He was hunched in his saddle, shivering with the cold.

"Cheer up," Crowley said. "Tis the season to be jolly. Right Cropper?" He glanced down eagerly at his horse. Cropper flicked his ears, confused because his master had fastened bells to his saddle. He was jingling as he walked, which was not something the ranger horse, trained to move in silence, was comfortable with.

Halt wasn't comfortable with it either. "Why the bells?" he asked, or rather, complained.

"Because it's christmas!" Crowley answered. "You know, jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way, oh what fun-"

"I know the song!" Halt interrupted the dreadful singing.

Crowley shook his head in pity. "You're even more short tempered then usual," he observed. "Obviously _someone_ needs to lighten up and enjoy the celebrations. Christmas only comes once a year, you know."

"I know," Halt growled. "I can count. That doesn't mean I have to enjoy it. Cropper isn't enjoying himself either."

"Of course he is!" Crowley was mortified at the implication that his horse didn't thoroughly enjoy having bells attatched to his harness. "You're having fun, aren't you, Cropper?"

The horse shook his mane violently. Halt raised an eyebrow.

"He's lying so that Abelard doesn't get jealous," Crowley explained wisely.

They had arrived in Redmont the previous night. Crowley was staying with his family, while Halt had a room booked at the castle. The newly appointed Baron Arald was one of those who supported Prince Duncan, and the reforming of the corps, so was more than happy to lend Halt a place to stay.

The grim ranger had hoped for a quiet few days. He'd ride Abelard to the forest, maybe take a look at the incapable drunk of a ranger that worked (or pretended to work) in Redmont. Certainly it would be a break from Crowley while the sandy haired ranger was with his family. Not that Halt didn't like Crowley, but they'd been almost exclusively in each others company for the past year, and christmas had made him unbearable.

He should have known better. Crowley knocked on his door soon after dawn, and hassled him out to Wensley village to go shopping.

"I have to buy christmas presents for mum, dad, aunty Lyn, uncle Ross, my other aunty Rosabel, another aunty Elizabeth, uncle Tony, grandma, grandad, my friend Wallace, my friend Paul, the dogs," Crowley had told him. There had been more to the list but Halt had stopped listening.

"What does this have to do with me?" he'd asked.

Crowley had actually seemed surprised at the question. "You're going to help me, of course. I can't fit all that in Croppers saddlebags."

Now here they were, riding through the market with hoards of gift wrapped presents bulging in the saddlebags- the jingling saddlebags in Cropper's case. Halt regretted agreeing to help. The decorations and street buskers were making him sour.

"My house isn't far away," Crowley said. He led the way through the bustling streets, pausing now and then when he spotted a sale of interest. Halt didn't find any of the sales particularly intersting. There was nothing he needed for himself, and it wasn't like he had anyone to buy presents for. Unless Crowley expected something from him. He glanced at the sandy haired ranger suspiciously. Well, that was Crowley's problem if he did. He'd just have to cope with the disappointment.

Crowley's parent's owned a two bedroom home, on the fringes of the town. They had a large paddock, where they bred horses, and a vegetable patch. They weren't nobles, nor were they rich, but they were well off and content. Crowley's father, Jonathon, was in the craft of training battlehorses. He had a natural touch with the animals, and his success in his personal breeding programme brought all the income they needed. Isabell, Crowley's mother, used to be a chef. She'd since retired from that job, and now spent her days tending vegetables and helping with the horses.

"We'll go around the back," Crowley said. "I don't want mum and dad seeing my presents for them."

They rode around the house. The window to Crowley's old room was open- much like the ranger, his family enjoyed the fresh air and kept the windows open even in winter. He nimbly slipped in, then got Halt to pass him the presents one by one. Halt wasn't having a good time. A wind had stirred and he was freezing, standing in the snow.

When Crowley was satisfied that all his gifts were hidden under his bed or in his closet, he climbed back out the window and led Cropper to the stable. Halt was about to leave, now that he was no longer needed, when Isabell Meratyn spotted him.

"You must be Halt!" she said. He assumed she'd been in the kitchen, because she had a pink apron tied around her middle. She was, without a doubt, related to Crowley. Isabell had the same bright hazel eyes and sandy red hair, though hers was gathered in a loose bun. Her striped green and purple sweater with clumsily embroidered dog paws and her tartan skirt seemed to be a crazy choice of clothes, nothing like the elegent women Halt had known in Dun Kilty. Somehow, this made Isabel resemble her son even more, perhaps because Crowley was wearing wacky clothes as well. Since they were pretending not to be rangers, they weren't wearing their cloaks, but while Halt stuck to his normal brown and grey garb, Crowley had a santa jacket on. He hadn't been able to find matching pants, so he wore green elf trousers, and shiny black boots complete with golden buckles.

"Yes," Halt said quietly. "Hello."

Isabell beamed at him. "I've heard so much about you! Do come inside, I've just taken a batch of cookies out the oven."

His stomache betrayed him, emitting a loud rumble. So Halt bedded Abelard in the stable and went inside. With all the windows open, it was still fairly cold indoors. This was one thing Halt didn't mind- he agreed with Crowley about fresh air.

"What sort of cookies, mum?" Crowley asked. He sat down at the kitchen table. Halt joined him.

Isabell brought a tray of steaming gingerbread men over. "Only two each," she cautioned, with a pointed look at her son. "I'm going to ice the rest later."

They were good, Halt thought, the highlight of the day. Even better, while Crowley was wolfing down his share, spraying crumbs everywhere, he had his mouth full and didn't talk. Blessed silence, broken only by the munching of biscuits.

It was obvious that Isabell shared her son's christmas spirit. The kitchen was adorned with tinsel, holly and ivy. She made them both a cup of coffee- and was as puzzled as Crowley when Halt asked for honey to put in it. There was to be a feast on christmas eve up at the castle, and Isabell shared the good news that she had been invited to cook. Crowley was ecstatic for his mum, he hugged her and congratulated her. Halt felt uncomfortable. He was unused to seeing such open displays of affection between mother and son. It made him feel slightly regretful.

They heard crashes outside the kitchen. The smashing of pottery and a gruff curse. Halt felt for his saxe, all too aware that it was the only weapon on him- the cost of pretending not to be rangers. However, Crowley lit up and exchanged a grin with his mum.

"The trees here!" he said. He ran into the living room, Isabell smiling wryly, and Halt following behind them.

Jonathon Meratyn was trying to navigate around the living room with a large pine tree over his shoulder. A vase that may have once been beautiful, was now in fifty pieces that littered the floor. Isabell began to sweep it up.

Jonathon paused as he spotted the dark haired, unsmiling young man behind his son. "Hullo," he said. "Who's this?"

"This is Halt," Crowley introduced them. "Halt- my dad Jonathon." He gestured to each of them when he said their name.

"Nice to meet you, Halt," Jonathon said. "Are you going to help decorate the tree?"

"Ah, no, I was just leaving-"

"Yes!" Crowley interrupted. "Halt's been looking forward to it for weeks."

"I really haven't-"

"Well, I'd hate to disappoint," Jonathon said, not bothering to listen to Halt's protest. "Grab a bucket from the deck, Crowley."

The young ranger did as his father asked, somehow locating a black bucket among the clutter of spades, folded deck chairs, and random ornaments that included a clay model of a dog with a head far too big and wiggly legs that didn't bend in the right places, sculpted evidently by unproffessional hands. He sloshed a little water in from the water barrel, to keep the tree hydrated.

"Here we go," Crowley said cheerfully, swinging the bucket as he walked. "Let's put that tree up."

Somehow, Halt found himself with the job of piling stones into the bucket to keep the tree upright. Crowley was in charge of holding the tree steady, but he let it 'slip' several times and it smacked Halt's head. He stored these offences away in his mind, resolving to get Crowley back for that later. As for the parents, they were lounging on the couch drinking coffee.

When the tree was (finally) standing, and Crowley stepped back beaming, Isabell brought out a box of decorations from the top of a cabinet. Crowley dived on them, pulling out strands of tinsel and tossing balls around. The pine was slightly too big for the room, and the top was bent over.

Isabell took it upon herself to untangle a chain of golden balls. Crowley urged Halt to help him wrap the tinsel around the tree. Halt stood on the ground, Crowley on the arm of the couch, and they passed the tinsel to each other to wind it around the tree. Crowley had dibs on the higher position because, as he claimed, he was taller (By 3.5 centimetres, they'd measured it some months ago) and Halt wouldn't be able to reach the top anyway. Halt had almost walked out right then and there; the only thing stopping him was that Isabell promised them an extra cookie when they finished the tree.

They hung the coloured glass balls on the branches on the tree. It had been a long time since he'd decorated the tree with Caitlyn and Ferris. He remembered Dun Kilty in the snow, with the blazing fires and christmas decorations, and had a moment of nostalgia.

It was strange to recreate the old christmas atmosphere from before his father fell ill, before Halt ran away to train under Pritchard (the older ranger had never bothered with christmas). In part, he liked it, but he also actually missed the draughty halls and traditional hibernian carols. And Caitlyn.

He was also growing weary of Crowley's persistant holiday cheer, and his constant talk of 'I have to buy my family this' and 'We have so many distant family members coming this year', just 'my family, my family' all the time.

"Halt, what are you doing? Keep decorating!" Crowley demanded childishly. Halt realised he'd been staring into space. He rummaged in the box and found a clay santa, obviously made by the same person who'd created the dog on the deck, if the unproportioned head was any indication.

"It looks good boys," Isabell said when they were done. Almost done. Crowley reached into the box and pulled out a star.

"How are you going to put that on?" Halt rolled his eyes. "In case you haven't noticed, the tree doesn't fit." He pointed to where the top branch was bent over.

Crowley grinned at him. "It never fits, Halt. Allow me to show you a Meratyn family secret." He bowed dramatically. Jonathon and Isabell began to chant, 'the star, the star, the star," to give him encouragement. They were all complete morons, Halt thought, but he had to admit they weren't unpleasant morons.

Crowley produced a piece of string from the box. He waved it, showing them it was a normal piece of string like a magician showed the inside of his hate before he produced a rabbit. Isabell and Jonathon adopted 'what will happen next' looks, even though they must already know. Halt himself settled on a 'you're an idiot' look.

With a cheerful grin, Crowley tied the star to the top branch of the tree. Halt thought it would make more sense to tie it just where the tree hit the ceiling, but Crowley apparently wanted it on the natural highest point, that was bent over, so that the star was upside down.

Isabell and Jonathon cheered. Crowley took another majestic bow, then grinned at Halt. "Pretty cool, huh?" he said.

"No," Halt said shortly. None of the Meratyns were deterred from their cheers and grins. He sighed to himself, reflecting once more on how alike Crowley was to his parents. They returned to the kitchen to eat the promised cookies.

"Do stay for dinner, Halt," Isabell offered. "I'm cooking salmon, with parsley and lemon on a salad dressed with balsamic vinaigrette." She described the meal like a true chef. The Meratyn men drooled, grinning at each other with the delight of buffoons.

"No thank you," Halt declined. As good as the meal sounded, the peace and quiet of his rooms at the castle also sounded most enticing. "I have to be going."

"That's a shame," Isabell said, disappointed. "Well, Crowley, see your friend to the stable," she inrtucted, as if her son was still ten years old. "Then you can help ice the cookies."

Crowley grinned. "I'll make one look like you," he said to Halt.

"Please don't," Halt muttered in response. He waved goodbye to Jonathon and Isabell, and heard them saying he was a 'nice, young chap' when they thought he was out of earshot. He wondered if, perhaps, he might have enjoyed dinner with them. But he planned to spend christmas alone in his rooms anyway, so he might as well start now.

They trudged through the snow to the stable. He saddled Abelard, led him out into the snow, and nodded to Crowley.

"Well, bye then," he said.

"See you tommorrow," Crowley said.

"I hope not," Halt groaned aloud. Then, without sparing a second's thought, he knelt down, seized a fistful of snow, and sent it flying smack into Crowley's face.

"Ah-Argh!" Crowley yelled, brushing the icy snow from his features. His shoulders hunched over as some got down his front and he hissed with the cold.

"That was for all those times you 'accidently' dropped the tree on me," Halt told him. He swung up into the saddle and galloped away, before the outraged young man behind him had time to retaliate.

…...

The christmas eve feast was a roaring success. The great hall of Redmont was alive with laughter and vivid conversation. The food was glorious- roasted turkeys stuffed with rosemary and sage, pigs turning on the spit over fires, chickens, salads, fresh baked fruit bread and rich gravy to pour over everything. Then the pudding came out- cakes, jellies, trifles, pies and tarts. There was too much for even the majority population of Redmont to finish, though Baron Arald had a commendable attempt at finishing off the pastries.

The baron, the craftmasters, nobles and the other high officials of Redmont had assigned seats, but lower class citizens were permitted to come and take food, though there were not enough chairs for them. It was the baron's christmas gift to the peasants, a sure meal for their families. And most of them stuck around, sitting on the floor, to hear his finishing speech.

As for Crowley, when the feast was over and people were slowly filtering away, he took himself a bottle of brandy and two glasses, and found a spot in the corridor to rig a mistletoe. Halt raised an eyebrow as he saw this.

"What are you doing?" he asked, as he noticed his friend had poured himself a glass of the brandy and settled down, cross legged, under the mistletoe. Crowley grinned impishly at him.

"Picking up girls," he said.

Just as he said this, two remarkably pretty girls rounded the corner. They were giggling, probably slightly drunk, as was most of Redmont. Halt found that his eyes were drawn to on of the girls who, he realised, was more than pretty with her long blonde hair and tall, slim figure.

"Hey girls," Crowley said cheerfully. "Want a glass of brandy?"

And now Halt saw the plan. When one of the girls stepped forward to take the glass, they would be under the mistletoe and feel obliged to kiss Crowley as the silly tradition demanded. It was ludicrous.

"Don't do it, Pauline, they're drunk idiots," one of the girls said to the other. Halt realised they had assumed he was in on this foolish plan, and for some unfathomable reason, he didn't want the blonde one- Pauline, her friend had called her- to think he was an idiot like Crowley. He opened his mouth to protest, but closed it again when Pauline looked at him because his tongue suddenly felt all gloopy and awkward in his mouth; he didn't think he could talk to her without making a fool of himself.

"I wasn't going to," Pauline said to her friend, and they walked past the rangers.

Crowley grinned, not really put off. "That Pauline was pretty," he said to Halt. "Too bad. The next girl will be mine for sure!"

As it happened, no more girls came down the corridor he'd chosen- at least none that weren't arm and arm with a man. Halt waited around because he was enjoying seeing his friend fail. Also, he was hoping Pauline might come back this way. Even if not, it had been a long time since he'd talked with a pretty girl, and if by some chance Crowley's absurd plan worked, he wasn't opposed to taking advantage of it.

Eventually, Crowley poured another glass of brandy and handed it to Halt. They sat beside each other, sipping their drinks.

"I get a stocking this year." Crowley made conversation as they waited. "I didn't get one while I was training with Pritchard. He wasn't big on christmas, was he? But mum promised santa would come this year, cool huh? Santa's going to come for all our relatives, including uncle Borris and-"

"Shut up, Crowley," Halt muttered. "I don't want to hear a list of your relatives that are coming to Redmont again."

"Why are you so grumpy?" Crowley asked, an edge of irritation in his voice. "Can't you just relax and enjoy yourself for once? This could be our only break from reforming the corps for a while, and who knows what will happen next year- the whole kingdom could go to ruin if we don't get things sorted, plus one of us could die, or both of us. This is our break from that, so just cheer up and enjoy it."

"That's alright for you," Halt scowled.

"What?"

"I said it's alright for you!" Halt snapped. "You with all your family coming to stay, and your house, and your stupid decorations." Suddenly, he couldn't stop himself. He couldn't shut himself up before he said too much. "With your uncle whosit, your auntie whats-her-face. You have your parents here, and you get along with them, oh it's so easy for you to say 'cheer up'."

"Huh?"

"It's not like you're the one who's miles away from home, who will never hear a traditional carol from your home country again. Not everyone gets santa, or all those presents. Not everyone has family to buy gifts for."

"Eh?"

"You're not the one who'll be spending christmas day alone in a room that's not even your home. You-"

"Halt!" Crowley interrupted, looking quite flabbergasted at the outburst from his usually quiet friend. "You won't be spending christmas alone. Didn't I tell you that you were having christmas at my house?"

Halt blinked. "Why would I be spending christmas at your house?"

"Because christmas is a time for family," Crowley said sincerely. "And you're the closest thing I'v ever had to a brother."

"Oh." Halt stared down at the brandy in his hands, feeling a little foolish and embarrassed by his surge of emotion. "Well then." He glanced at his friend- his brother. "I suppose you're not going to give me a choice."

"None at all!" Crowley said cheerfully.

Halt ducked his head, and took a quick sip of brandy, trying to hide that-

"You're smiling!" Crowley exclaimed, now looking even more astonished.

Halt's eyebrow twitched, the small smile disappeearing to leave no trace that it was ever there. "You don't have to look so surprised," he muttered. "Tis the season to be jolly, after all."

Crowley guffawed, as he found it to be hilarious that the word 'jolly' had come out of Halt's mouth. Then his laughter cut off abruptly, and a look of horror crossed his face.

"What?" Halt asked, frowning. He followed his friend's gaze, his eyes finishing on the mistletoe hanging innocently above them.

"Don't you even think about it," Halt said sharply. "It's just a ridiculous tradition."

Crowley shrugged. He kissed his own fingertips, then pressed them to Halt's cheek. "There," he said, satisfied that he had completed the tradition without humiliating himself. "A brotherly kiss for you."

Halt slapped the hand away. "That's disgusting! I don't want your slobber on me!" He rubbed his cheek, even more annoyed when Crowley burst into his usual laughter and raised his glass of brandy.

"Merry Christmas Halt, here's to another great year!" he said as they clinked glasses.

**Merry Christmas everyone! I hope you all have a great time, have loving people around you, eat lots of food and have a pile of presents under the tree. **


End file.
